


Living Weapons Are Still People

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts [15]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair has a chat with Wynne, Crappy weather makes local bear homeless, Gen, and also kind of dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-28 22:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonageThe party takes shelter from bad weather in a cave. Alistair and Wynne have a chat.





	Living Weapons Are Still People

_**Prompt 5:** Rain for days, caves, contemplative/restless, blue, and sight. _

 

Finding the cave had been a stroke of luck. The rain had only gotten stronger in the days since leaving Redcliffe, making it nearly impossible to keep any tents they pitched upright.  That night marked the sixth straight day of heavy rain, winds cold enough to chill the bones and mud so thick that it threatened to suck boots off feet with every few steps taken. 

 

E ach of the mages, even the prickly Witch of the Wilds, had summoned several wisps to loiter about in various corners of the spacious cave the party had taken over. Wynne and Morrigan each had a trio of blue wisps answer their call. Sevarra, whether by accident or by design, had pink ones answer her summons.  Morrigan arched a brow, whereas Wynne merely shook her head with a chuckle. 

 

“Pink? Really? Are we trying to show off?” the apostate smirked. 

 

“No, not really. The ones that answer me are always that color unless I concentrate extra hard for something else,” the Warden answered.

 

C ommon wisps were typically blue or green, most mages knew that,  and those were the only color s most mages could summon. It took effort most didn’t care to expend on such a trivial thing to get anything  different.  The rest of the party didn’t seem to particularly care what color their light sources were. They seemed thankful for the fact that they had light to see by that wouldn’t fill their shelter with smoke. 

 

T heir shelter hadn’t been easily won. Near the mouth of the cave, Sten was steadily carving away the meat and hide of the previous tenant: a rather large black bear, who had not been at all pleased by uninvited company.  He made for an intimidating sight as he impassively cut and scraped useful parts away from waste.  Perhaps they’d been unkind  to the bear , but after several days in the cold and rain, tempers had been short. 

 

Alistair set about starting a single campfire in the center of the cave. After  he was done, Wynne had quickly pulled out a small kettle and began heating some water for tea.  Once that was done, she took a seat beside him watching the fire.  His eyes kept drifting over to a corner where Sevarra sat, curled up with a ratty looking book, a charcoal pencil  in one hand,  and yet another wisp hovering over her shoulder as she scribbled something on to the pages. 

 

“Something on your mind?” the elder mage asked.

 

“Doesn’t it worry you? Even a little bit?”

 

“You’ll have to be specific, dear,” she replied. 

 

“Her,” he nodded toward the corner where his sister-Warden was still scribbling in her book. “In the Circle, she was so… angry. She practically went berserk. She went into Fade more than once, willingly the second time. I’m just...” 

 

“Afraid she’ll lose control?” she finished his sentence. “That’s a battle a mage has to fight every minute of every day. Put yourself in her shoes. The Circle was the only home she knew. How did you feel when you first discovered what happened in Redcliffe?” 

 

H e sighed and lowered his gaze. “Horrible. A little bit… guilty.” 

 

“Guilty? Alistair, what happened in the village wasn’t your fault in the least.”

 

“But if I’d been there sooner--” he started.

 

Wynne held up a hand as if to implore him to not go down that line of thinking any further. “You were away being trained to be a templar, and then later recruited into the Grey Wardens, as you’ve told me. And then you were at Ostagar for the battle.  I’m not seeing any way you could’ve gotten there any sooner than you did. Unless you developed the ability to see into the future, perhaps?”

 

He sighed and shook his head in defeat  and in deference to her logic. 

 

“If not for you two, there wouldn’t be any survivors to tell the tale of the Grey Wardens who saved them. The Circle was her Redcliffe. Some people wilt under guilt, others get angry and act. Irving made certain to train her to think like someone who would never consider wilting an option.” 

 

W ynne pulled a few herbs from a pouch and sprinkled them into the kettle. The aroma the infusion gave off was a welcome change from the cave’s normal collection of smells. 

 

“What if she gets that angry again? What if she loses control?” he asked quietly. 

 

“With the current state of affairs, there is plenty for any decent man or woman to be angry about. Uldred betrayed everyone who ever trusted him. I may not approve of how she went about things with him, but he had it coming for years. I’m not certain I could’ve done much better if I’d been in her position. He was personally responsible a great deal of her suffering before… well, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is what one does with their anger. It says much about who one is as a person.” 

 

He accepted an offered mug of tea with a nod of thanks. He blew gently over the surface, causing the steam to billow and twirl away from his face.  Tea wasn’t his first choice of drink, but it felt like his bones warmed as he drank. The slight grassy taste was a small price to pay to shake off the chill that’d been a near-constant companion.  The  Warden stared into the campfire with a contemplative expression for several minutes. 

 

“Sometimes, the line between ‘reckless’ and ‘passionate’ gets blurred. Squint as you look at them, and one may look like the other,” the mage said after finishing her tea. “Was it recklessness that made her go after the demon that held Connor captive? Or was it a passion to see a wrong righted, to see an innocent saved?” 

 

“I… don’t know?” he answered, frowning into his mug. 

 

“May I suggest something, Alistair?” Wynne asked.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Try talking to her. How can you ever hope to accomplish anything worthwhile if you do not trust each other? Mage or not, she’s just a person. Aren’t you more than your weapons and armor?” she said with a pointed look. 

 

H e looked away with a blush. The elder mage rose and went to unpack her bedroll some ways away toward the back of the cave. He bit his lip while he debated with himself internally. After reaching a conclusion, he filled a mug and careful ly padded to where Sevarra was restlessly tapping her pencil against her book, brows knit in thought.  A polite cough pulled her from her thoughts when she failed to acknowledge his presence after a handful of heartbeats. 

 

She made a soft hum of inquiry as she looked up at him. 

 

“Tea. Might like. Er, that is, thought you might like some tea. To chase the chill off.” 

 

She took the mug with a smile of thanks. After taking a sip, she patted the ground beside her, beckoning him to take a seat.  They spoke at length,  switching to whispers and muffled laughs  as the others crawled into bedrolls for the night. He was left alone with his thoughts several hours later a s she rose to take Sten’s place standing watch.  Perhaps he’d let his templar training do his thinking for him earlier, he mused. 


End file.
